


even the darkest hours

by stellahibernis



Series: an approximation of domesticity [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, a different kind of happiness, bad days are better together, bucky says i love you but not in so many words, nightmare aftermath, steve and the trouble with words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7283332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It takes Steve a moment to get his eyes adjusted when he steps into the living area, and then he takes the scene in. Bucky sits on the floor in the middle of the open space, surrounded by stacks of files and papers spread all around him. There are binders from their war days, the HYDRA files, SHIELD files on everything they’d had on Winter Soldier and some newspaper clippings. And there are notebooks, scraps of paper, all filled with neat writing, both Latin and Cyrillic alphabet. Several different languages.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“You should go back to sleep,” Bucky says, finally fully acknowledging Steve.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Yeah, we both know I’m not going to do that,” Steve says. It’s an exchange they have every time this occurs.</i>
</p>
<p>Sometimes nightmares mean difficult days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	even the darkest hours

**Author's Note:**

> I'm starting to think this series should have been called cuddling on the couch, because it feels like it's about 65 % that.

Steve wakes up in the middle of the night, and immediately knows the reason to this is he’s alone in the bed. Bucky’s side has cooled almost down to the room temperature, which means it must have been a while since Bucky left, and that whatever made him leave wasn’t anything dramatic. Occasionally the wakings end up being intense, for both of them really. Nightmares are still very much a part of their life, and will probably be so for years forward, if not forever. For all that, it’s still better than it used to be, now that neither one of them has to be alone when they happen.

Compared to the first two years after Steve woke up in the future, things are infinitely better now.

He throws away the covers and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt before heading to the main room. There is a chance that Bucky’s actually left the apartment, since sometimes he just can’t stay inside after nightmares, but Steve immediately sees it’s not the case this time. Bucky’s turned on the lights, which isn’t that common when he gets out of bed at night.

It takes Steve a moment to get his eyes adjusted when he steps into the living area, and then he takes the scene in. Bucky sits on the floor in the middle of the open space, surrounded by stacks of files and papers spread all around him. There are binders from their war days, the HYDRA files, SHIELD files on everything they’d had on Winter Soldier and some newspaper clippings. And there are notebooks, scraps of paper, all filled with neat writing, both Latin and Cyrillic alphabet. Several different languages.

When Bucky moved in, his collection moved with him. The papers are usually stacked in boxes and tucked into a corner of the closet in the laundry room. This isn’t the first time Steve has seen Bucky dig them out, though. Steve doesn’t know what precisely triggers it, although nightmares seem to be a common denominator, but sometimes Bucky needs to go through them. He usually isn’t searching for anything in particular, just reading bits and pieces here and there, arranging and rearranging everything. Steve knows by now that it’s best to just let it run its course, wait until the compulsion leaves Bucky.

Waiting doesn’t mean there’s nothing he can do, though. He goes to make coffee, and when it’s on the way he gets Bucky a hoodie and a blanket, since it’s fairly cool and Bucky’s only wearing a tank top and sweatpants, no socks. Steve also pulls on more clothes, then pours the coffee for them and finally sits near Bucky on the floor with his sketchbook and pencils.

“You should go back to sleep,” Bucky says, finally fully acknowledging Steve. He stops to pull on the hoodie Steve brought.

“Yeah, we both know I’m not going to do that,” Steve says. It’s an exchange they have every time this occurs. Steve settles into a more comfortable position and flips open his sketchbook.

Bucky huffs and says, voice full of exasperation that’s familiar from all the way since their childhood, “At least sit on the damn couch.”

“I’m fine where I am,” Steve says and starts to draw, ignoring Bucky’s irritated glance.

It takes a few hours. Steve refills their mugs and otherwise just sits drawing near Bucky, who doesn’t seem to so much read as just look through the documents. He sits hunched over them and it must be hell on his back, because the enhanced physique doesn’t prevent from getting stiff muscles, even if they do recover faster. Sometimes Steve is sure the price of it is that the pain is twice as intense while they hurt. Finally Bucky sighs and rubs his right hand over his eyes, and then very efficiently starts packing the papers back into the boxes.

Steve closes his sketchbook. “Will you tell me what it was?” The form of the question is deliberate; sometimes Bucky doesn’t want to talk, or maybe even can’t, and Steve isn’t going to pressure him.

“I don’t even know. I dreamed of something but hell if I know what it was. Couldn’t stay in the bed, after.”

“Can you come back to bed now?” Steve asks after Bucky closes the last box.

“Don’t think so,” Bucky says, sounding defeated.

“Okay, come here instead.”

Steve gets on his feet and reaches his hand out to Bucky who lets himself be pulled up and then onto the couch. It’s times like these that Steve is especially glad he had the foresight to choose one where two people of their size can stretch fairly comfortably.

They take a while to settle, and end up with Steve halfway on top of Bucky, Bucky’s arms around him almost too tight, pulling him in. Even if the compulsion to look into his past is gone, Bucky is still clearly rattled, there are faint tremors going through him every once in a while, and his pulse is too high where Steve’s face is pressed against his neck. Steve also understands that this position is a subconscious safety measure; with Steve pinning him down Bucky can’t just go, either by his own volition or be taken. And as much as he wishes that Bucky didn’t have to feel this way, didn’t have to fear disappearing, Steve can’t help but be grateful that he can do this. Can’t help but be grateful that his presence helps. 

Bucky doesn’t sleep, and neither does Steve, he just lies in Bucky’s arms and waits for the morning. Bit by bit the light grows outside, and with it the tremors come to stop, Bucky’s heart rate returning to normal, close to Steve’s own. Bucky’s arms loosen their grip too, but Steve doesn’t move yet, just waits while Bucky traces his spine up and down with his fingers.

Finally Bucky shifts under him, lets out a resigned sigh and rubs at his eyes. “You can move, you know. It’s late enough to get up.”

Steve takes it for what it is, a request to be let up because Bucky is feeling pathetic after the night. “I really don’t mind lying here on top of you, though,” he says, because it’s important to let Bucky know he means to always be there, not to mention it is the truth. He really doesn’t mind, quite the opposite in fact.

Bucky doesn’t reply, only squeezes at Steve’s shoulder while getting up, as a wordless something. Steve doesn’t like to think of it as an apology, because there is nothing to apologize for. He’s left on the couch as Bucky goes to the bathroom, to reflect on all the things he wants to tell Bucky but doesn’t have words for. How he treasures every moment they have together. How he is sorry that Bucky has to go through nights like these, or sometimes even worse ones (not that Bucky would accept an apology, he adamantly refuses to let Steve take even the smallest bit of blame for what happened to him). How he is grateful, because if there was nothing he could do, or if his presence made things worse on nights like these, it would be hell. He’d stay away then, but it would be so much worse.

Steve gets to his feet and stretches, listening to the sounds of Bucky brushing his teeth, splashing water on his face. Often after nights like these they go running, and the exercise usually helps, even if it can’t always completely dispel the shadows of nightmares. Today though, the weather is absolutely miserable, with the sky dark grey and rain hitting the windows seemingly from every direction. If Steve hadn’t spent considerable time inspecting and reinforcing the roof before he built his apartment, he’d worry that he was about to lose some tiles to the wind. As is, he spares an unfocused grateful thought comparing their home now to how they used to live with Bucky before the war and how a lot of things are easier these days.

Of course the flip side is that a lot of things are much more difficult, and even if today is not the worst kind of day, Steve could still do without. He heads to bedroom, sheds his clothes, tosses them into the hamper and then lays out comfortable and warm clothes for both of them before heading into the bathroom.

Bucky is leaning on the sink and staring into the mirror except he probably doesn’t see anything that’s actually there. Steve steps past him to turn the water on at the tub, testing it so that it’s about as hot as he thinks they can tolerate. Then he gently coaxes Bucky out of his clothes and into the tub. 

They settle in, Bucky in front of Steve, leaning on his chest with Steve’s arms loose around him. For a while they just sit there, listening to the water, feeling it slowly climb up their bodies. Steve can feel the warmth working into his muscles, relaxing him, and even Bucky feels looser in his arms. When the water is a few inches from the top of the tub, Bucky reaches forward to shut it down and then returns to leaning into Steve.

It’s quiet with the sound of water cut off, and the steam floating in the room makes it feel like their little island of safety, one that Steve has worked hard to make their home into. He shifts them a bit to get space to work on Bucky’s neck that clearly bothers him, and to smooth out the kinks in his shoulder above the prosthesis. Bucky leans his head forward and otherwise lets Steve do as he wants. Neither one of them talks, but the silence is comfortable as it often is with them, despite both of them being aware of the fact that it’s just not a great day for Bucky.

After a while Bucky’s neck isn’t so stiff anymore, and Bucky in general feels more relaxed, if not fully so. Steve lets his hands slide over Bucky’s skin in a less purposeful way, just touching him everywhere he can reach, enjoying how Bucky presses minutely closer to him. When he bends his head to kiss Bucky’s neck once and then trailing kisses down his spine, Bucky threads the fingers of his right hand with Steve’s. Steve pulls Bucky flush against him, hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder, and they stay there until the water starts to cool.

After they’ve showered and dressed they make breakfast and eat, Bucky still quieter than usual but working with Steve in the kitchen as he usually does. Bucky loads the dishwasher and Steve wipes down the counters and the bar, and then heads towards the sitting area, vaguely intending to put on a movie or something for background noise. When he’s going past Bucky, Bucky reaches for his hand and stops him, pulling him closer. Steve goes easily and settles with his arms loosely around Bucky, Bucky clutching at the hem of his shirt with one hand, the other curved behind Steve’s neck, their foreheads resting against each other.

A moment later some tension seems to flow out of Bucky again, and he huffs a tired laugh. “This day is pretty much awful shit. Inside my head I mean,” he says.

“I know,” Steve just agrees and wraps his arms around Bucky a bit tighter.

“But,” Bucky continues, “It’s infinitely better now here, with you, than before.”

Steve doesn’t have words for it, but tries to put all the unorganized thoughts and feelings he has into the kiss he places on Bucky’s lips. Because it’s true. Days like this come, can’t be avoided, but they are so much better now that they are together, able to help each other through them. It’s another kind of happiness, he thinks, a little wry. But perhaps it’s their kind of happiness, and even if Steve sometimes wishes a lot of thing were different, he’ll still take this, and will never let go.

They end up on the couch again, with music down low in the background. This time Steve is lying on his back, Bucky halfway on top of him and halfway tucked between him and the back of the couch. In few minutes Bucky is completely relaxed and falling asleep, and Steve breathes a little easier, covers Bucky’s hand that’s resting on his chest with his own and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to show a bit different angle to their happiness here. For all that they are very happy, there's still everything that happened in their past, everything they've been through, and it means that not every day is a good day. But happiness for them means among other things getting through the bad days when they happen, always together.
> 
> Also, did you pinpoint where Bucky says "I love you" without actually using the words (since this is set pre-not one single further sorrow)?
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/) too.


End file.
